


through the night down the hills

by but_seriously



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23394943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/but_seriously/pseuds/but_seriously
Summary: “I’m sorry, what was that?” she asks. Her breathing’s ragged. She wants him too, but this is delightful.“Love,” he begins with gritted teeth, “Sweetheart. Beloved, betrothed, bewitching little termagant—”“None of those sounded remotely nice.” And she takes him all the way in.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 129





	through the night down the hills

**Author's Note:**

> this is 2.8k words of straight up porn, guys. written in part to @ishenwulf‘s prompt, “klaus and caroline having sex in remembrance of the last time they banged.”
> 
> prompted by @darkenedhallways, "nightcall" by london grammar.

**through the night down the hills;**

The conversation doesn’t lull. She doesn’t regret coming at all. She feels soaked with wine, fed with blood, pliable with comfort. He has a house off the grid and she’d found him covered with dirt and naked as the day he was born.

“Letting off some steam?” she asked, placing her suitcase down on the grass between her feet.

Klaus, astonished, had gone straight inside, showered, put on some clothes, before coming back outside to gather her into his arms.

She hadn’t minded the wait. The open country was really beautiful.

.

.

When it’s late enough in the day to concede drinking, and a _lot_ of drinking, Caroline finds herself in the position of having lost her dress somewhere between the parlour and the room he’s lead them to.

The first thing she sees is a bed and she thinks, _Oh, soft_ , as Klaus lays her there.

“Can we slow it down a bit this time, love? Give us a chance to explore.” Klaus lowers himself down her body. Caroline feels him go. It’s hard to distract herself from how hot his skin feels against hers. His wolf is whining, she knows, and she knows he won’t listen. That he’ll be stubborn, determined to be selfish the same way she is.

“I might already have a list in mind,” she says impishly. She feels young in her bones, she wants to make terrible jokes and laugh against his neck, and feel him harden against her. She wants to tug at him and tease and kiss until they lose against the tide. She wants him in a way she couldn’t explain. At least, not in words. “Touch. Let’s start with that.”

Klaus swallows as he looks up at her. All at once she’s unsettled by him, and that in his eyes she can see something so soft, a longing so sweet. Klaus presses a kiss to her right breast; the sound of it almost has her hips bucking. He smiles. “That is a fine place to start, sweetheart.”

Caroline is sorry when his warmth leaves like the pull of a blanket; childish with want she actually extends her arms to him, her elbows around his neck as if to pull him down towards her, but Klaus gently reprimands her, placing his hands on her hips to stop her. She groans and he starts laughing.

In a desperate attempt to placate herself she takes a frantic glance around the room. “Looks real cosy, Klaus.”

“I didn’t plan it to be this way—not exactly. But I thought of home and saw you.”

She snorts. Really? “You saw wolf furs and a lamp that _literally_ looks like a hanging moon – which, by the way, can Bonnie learn to do that? I’m sort of into it—”

Klaus promptly pushes her down onto the bed. The look he gives her is utter wickedness and a flush creeps up her neck.

Klaus had laid her down in a room filled with the colour of red smoke: it’s late evening and his bed faces the sunset. The shadow from the blinds marks his face with strange lines. He is bathed red and black all over and it all feels a little like a slow, slow dream.

“Awww,” she can’t help feeling pleased, “you built a sex room.”

“Glad you caught on,” he smirks, but he’s a little distracted with worrying his teeth on the sensitive part of her hipbone. She’s a little surprised, to be honest, that he had remembered, considering that their _last_ time together was a little more… urgent.

She stretches her body against the length of his bed. Her knuckles brush against carved wood, and she absentmindedly hopes he has something around to tie her up for later.

Klaus appears to have had the same idea, and he rose to the occasion extravagantly, rolling off her slightly to retrieve two scarves from a drawer by the bed.

Oh dear fucking G—

.

.

The offending item is in his hand. He wraps it around his knuckles, demonstrating its ability to hold. Her eyes take it in readily.

“What do you say, love?” He grins as he tosses the scarf into the air, letting it float down onto her bare stomach. It slides off with how smooth its fabric is, and she moans softly—even more when he continues: “That way your hands won’t be in the way when I lick you just shy of your cunt.”

“Well don’t let me stop you,” she groans. “You’re gonna have to take your shirt off first, though. I’m pretty sure ripping it off you goes against _slow_.” She sounds put out, and actually _glares_ at him like it’s all his fault.

He loves it.

He stokes the fire by placing both his hands flat against her torso. There isn’t much of her that he can cover with his palms, and her hips press down into the bed with the sink of his hands. All at once he feels a flood of nostalgia. “I didn’t give proper appreciation to the volume of you when covered by hands,” he says ruefully.

“The forest was a long time ago,” Caroline says. She’s looking down at where his hands are. “Rediscover me.”

He looks up at her sharply. “I intend to,” he swears.

“You don’t have to be _that_ intense, you kn—”

He kisses her.

She gasps right before she melts against him, gently urging him to settle better on top of her, using her ankles to coax his knee into place between her thighs. She excels at slow, loathe as she likes to be. He can feel their bodies line up and press against each other. He brushes hair off her forehead and his fingers tangle with hers. He wonders if it’s painful for her, to have her hair pulled when he tightens his fingers around hers. He certainly wouldn’t mind.

Kissing Caroline is an experience. He can count on one hand the amount of time she’s allowed him, and the one time he stole one (in a _forest_ ). It’s morally wrong for him to feel so proud of that, still. He kisses her like only one thousand, eight hundred and fifty two days have passed deserves. Their noses bump and Caroline instinctually tilts her head. His teeth part and he is welcomed by the taste of her. She licks his tongue. Goosebumps flare across his back.

“Dude,” she breaks away breathlessly. “I was not kidding about the shirt. Gotta go.”

He’s just as breathless as she is. When he fumbles at his buttons he does so with a shaky chuckle. His shirt is gone soon enough, and he shucks off his trousers as well, but keeps his underwear on. “Is the state of my being deserving of your approval?”

“Mmm,” Caroline hums appreciatively, nodding. She hooks a finger between her lips in thought. “What did you say these scarves were meant for?”

‘Salacious’ isn’t a term he uses so often these days, but no other word can describe how her voice sounds then. She spreads her legs ever so slightly, the smallest inch, and it’s with an embarrassing amount of time that he is immediately on top of her again.

“And _that_ ,” she says, looking at him darkly, “is definitely not _slow_.”

“Sue me,” he says hoarsely, and ties a sheer black scarf around her wrist. He secures the other end of the scarf to the bedpost, tests the strength of the knot, and does the same with her other wrist.

“What about my legs?” she asks wide-eyed.

His eyes make short work of making her feel more undressed than she already is. “Think I’ll leave them. I like when you wrap your legs around my neck.”

“Great,” she nods, “good decision. Wait—neck?”

He nods back, chin pressing into her abdomen. “Yes, love. Neck. Shall I demonstrate now?”

He doesn’t wait for a yes. She wants it badly, anyway.

.

.

“You _bastard,_ ” she gasps. Lifting her hips, she tries to grind down onto his mouth, wants to feel his tongue in her cunt.

Klaus pouts. “I don’t like that word.”

She responds by tightening her trembling thighs around his neck, but Klaus only grins at this. This was the point, after all. He lowers his mouth to her hipbone again, licking a hot wet mark down, down, down—and, just like he’d said, _just_ shy of her cunt.

“Your clit’s all swollen, love,” Klaus says, fascinated. He sends her a wicked look before giving her clit the _briefest_ of licks with the tip of his tongue. “Oh, that didn’t help. Sorry.”

“I said _tease_ , not torture,” Caroline groans. “If you’re not going to do anything with your mouth, at least touch me, damn it.”

His hands travel to her breasts. She sighs with an inward _finally_ and closes her eyes when he pinches her nipple; he has his fingers buried almost painfully in her other breast, and she _hates_ how much she loves it.

Without warning Klaus licks her again, this time from her waiting cunt all the way up to her clit, a sudden and vigorous lick, one that made her spine scream. She supposes she must have, too, because Klaus’ laugh vibrates against where she _really_ wants him to kiss her.

She sort of wants to flick his ear for being so mean.

She can’t, of course, since she’s all tied up.

Which: yum. There will definitely be a lot more of this next time. She swears if he doesn’t _do_ something soon she’ll tie him standing up, she’ll suck the entire length of him into her mouth, she’ll make him curse and shake, she’ll make him beg and, _fuck_ , he is sliding his tongue into her cunt and his thumb is circling her wet clit with excruciating slowness.

Her head thuds into the headboard when he pushes his tongue deeper inside, his nose buried in her mound, his eyes struggling between the decision to keep looking at her or close his eyes and get truly lost.

She makes the decision for him. “Let go, Klaus. I’m not scared.”

And Klaus—Klaus whines, long and hoarse, and suddenly he’s licking at her so deliberately and so _good_ that she can’t help but cry out his name, in both shock and pleasure, her two most favourite sensations during sex. If it didn’t terrify her that she’d lose control and sink into the dark, she didn’t want it—her vampire _needed_ , with a burning, to be closer to him.

She can admit that freely now, and she laughs with so much joy to discover feeling so _liberated_.

Her laugh soon turns into nonsense. She half-urges, half-begs, for what she’s not quite sure. For him to sink his cock into her, for him to never stop fucking her with his fingers, for him to never again look up at her if it meant that she’ll keep on feeling this good forever.

It’s between all those angry, breathless declarations that she stammers out a please. Klaus only stops eating her out when he’s sure the lower half of his face is absolutely covered by her, and the look of satisfaction on his face is so filthy she almost rips out of the scarves’ hold to be able to claw at his back.

Caroline doesn’t bother to hide her heaving chest as she pushes her way up the bed so she’s leaning against the pillows. “Is ‘slow’ over yet? Because I don’t mind if we make quick work of numbers one to five on my list.”

“What’s number six?” Klaus asks with intrigue. “Surely there’s nothing else you want to—”

“Number one was for you to kiss me. Two, for you to—” she blushes, but ploughs on, “get down on your knees for me. Three, I wanted you to touch my breasts, which you did, and four… take off my panties and just, you know, go to town. I wanted to be tied up for five, but I’m glad we didn’t go in numerical order with that one.”

So intent is Klaus listening that it takes him a while to realise she’s trailing off. “Six?” he prompts.

“Find a way to tear out of my bonds and fuck you on the floor,” she admits, and then improvises. She is spectacular at improvising, as proven when she yanks once on the scarf and her wrist falls away: the other required a bit more work because Klaus had started showing off about his knots.

Caroline flexes her hands twice before whisking him off the bed, where he lands on his back with a soft cry. She divests him of his boxers with an eagerness that might usually offend her, but she’s waited long enough.

Klaus almost gasps at how wet she feels when she lowers herself down onto his cock. It’s too easy for her to take the entire length of him, but she takes her time, knowing he deserves the punishment. Klaus strains his neck, his back arches, he puffs a curse through his lips.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she asks. Her breathing’s ragged. She wants him too, but this is delightful.

“Love,” he begins with gritted teeth, “Sweetheart. Beloved, betrothed, bewitching little termagant—”

“None of those sounded remotely nice.” And she takes him all the way in.

He says her name.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes shutting tight. “Shall we try again? Love, sweetheart, beloved betrothed—”

She jerks her hips and his mouth twists. “The safe word is Jericho, if you have need for it,” she smirks.

Klaus narrows his eyes at her. Seconds later he has her slammed back onto the bed again, and when he pushes into her with violent need it’s all she can do not to call his name. The pace builds and crashes and builds and crashes again, until he takes her by surprise when he slows down.

“I want to have something to remember you by,” Klaus pants. His hair is matted to his forehead: she pushes it back for him with sweaty fingers.

“Why would you need to remember me?”

“You mean—” There’s that look of utter adoration on his face now, that look that used to agitate her, but now filled her with purpose. “You’re staying then? But you bought just one suitcase.”

“Um, yeah, duh. I’m not going to wear my regular ole’ clothes when I’m in _Paris,_ Klaus.” Their hips are still moving ever so insistently ttogether, in rhythm, a slow and sweet build. “We’re shopping later.”

“Whatever you want,” he says.

He closes his eyes. Wanting to feel what he feels she closes her eyes too, and finds that in the dark she sees the smear of his blood against hers, the harsh pants of their breath louder, the feeling of his cock, hard and slick inside her, magnified beyond choice.

Every thrust of his cock manages to fill her just right, rising to heights that might just undo her if he went _that_ little bit faster. She wraps her legs around him, holds on as tight as she can. She doesn’t want this to end, not just yet.

He is thinking of the woods. She knows this because he purposefully wraps his arms around her: one arm cushioning the back of her head and the other resting beneath the small of her waist. Where before he bedded her on a mat of flattened leaves he now lays her down on his bed with a fragility that discarded thought of a rougher Klaus from her mind.

She’s had enough of him being brash and wild—at least, she thinks. Enough is never enough, and more is a mantra, but the Klaus who wants to take his time with her excited her just the same way.

Klaus presses his forehead to hers and opens his eyes the same time she does.

She isn’t sure what she’s looking at: the bright stone blue in his eyes, or a fragment of a forever.

Klaus keeps at this punishing, pure pace for so long she forgets the feeling of having a physical body and existed only in sensation, and feeling. When she comes it takes like a sharp, swift fall. Klaus looks shaken out of a dream as well when his body shudders against hers, and—

—when they’re lying so heavily against each other, and when he’s pressing lingering kisses to her forehead, she says, “That didn’t really count as an orgasm, did it?”

“Not now, sweetheart,” Klaus mumbles sleepily. “This bed is going to smell of sweat and sex now. My wolf is on the verge of hibernating.”

“Wolves don’t really hibernate, do they?” she asks, her eyelids heavy.

Klaus doesn’t answer. Against the rise and fall of his chest, she tumbles along into sleep, where he’s waiting with his hands behind his back, smiling.

“So… wanna try dream sex out?” she asks.

He laughs so loud it’s a wonder it doesn’t wake them both up.


End file.
